


It Takes Two

by mightbeanasshole



Series: Better Luck Next Time (Call Boy AU) [2]
Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Prostitution, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-11
Updated: 2015-03-11
Packaged: 2018-03-17 08:51:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,831
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3523073
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mightbeanasshole/pseuds/mightbeanasshole
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ray never realized how relieved he would be to get a call from Ryan. But a night in with a john who appreciates him is just what the call boy needs.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It Takes Two

**Author's Note:**

> For the song, visit: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xTIp-KARF14

The first time Ray danced for Ryan ended up being one of Ray’s favorite memories, though maybe not for the reasons most people would assume.

It happened years ago, one March. Ray remembered it well--and if he was being honest with himself, he’d probably romanticized the details a bit in his memory. No harm in that, probably.

March was the tail-end of convention season in Reno. It was always a busy season for Jack and his boys, but that year had been particularly grueling.

It seemed like for every anonymous business suit-clad john that headed home after a week of partying and convention-going, two flew in that night to take his place.

It wasn’t even that their demands were unreasonable. Convention johns were notoriously easy to get off--most of them halfway there before Ray even arrived, simply thrilled with the idea of sex with a strange kid in a strange place. Ray barely had to do a thing and the pay was better than usual.

It was just the endless parade of hotel room interiors. The squeaky bed springs. The strange men fumbling for cash. Their awkward ways of fumbling through the first few minutes, insisting “This is the first time I’ve ever done this”--as if Ray would care. None of them wanted foreplay or conversation or care. And none of them were people Ray would ever see again in his life.

Hell, after a few months of that **anyone** would start to feel like a glorified sex toy rather than a real professional with honed skills and practices.

So at the tail end of March when Ryan called up, Ray had been practically overjoyed. He was in his room when the call came through.

“Jesus christ Ryan, am I ever glad to see your caller ID on my phone today,” Ray said immediately, not even bothering to greet his client.

“Hello to you too,” Ryan said, sounding a little delighted to hear Ray gushing about the call. “What’s going on?”

“All of these fucking conventions, Ryan,” Ray said. “It would just be nice to see a familiar face.”

“Ah, well, that I can do,” Ryan said. “Are you free tonight?”

“I can be,” Ray said. He’d had a few calls scheduled but Jack really owed him for all of the overtime he’d worked since January. Ray was sure that Jack would be willing to pull someone else to work his appointments if he put on a nice smile and begged. “What did you have in mind?”

“I thought I could take you out for some dinner,” Ryan said, “but conventions, hmm. Maybe you’d like a meal at home?”

Ray tried to play it cool. He’d been living off of the dollar menu for months and nothing on the earth sounded better than a home cooked meal. He forced himself not to admit it though.

“Sure,” Ray said casually. “I could be down for that.”

“What else would you like to do?”

Ray snickered.

“Ryan,” Ray said seriously, flopping back onto his bed. “I’m pretty sure you’re familiar with what I have to offer.”

Ryan laughed his helpless, high laugh on the other end of the line.

Ray had been seeing Ryan every few weeks since the year before, and although the familiarity was helping Ryan come out of his shell, it was still difficult to drag out what he wanted sometimes.

“So,” Ray said, dropping his voice a bit. “I think the question is, what else would **you** like me to do?”

“Maybe you could wear something--... special,” Ryan suggested after a moment.

“Now that I can do,” Ray said, eyeing the contents of his already-open closet. “Dresses, suits, leather, lace--what’s your fantasy, Ryan?”

“Lace,” Ryan said quickly, not missing a beat.

“Done,” Ray said. “What time?”

\---

It hadn’t been difficult to beg the night off from Jack. Ray asked for so few favors that Jack was only too happy to indulge him when he actually **did** make a special request.

Ryan lived out in Sparks, about 20 minutes from Reno proper. And although his house wasn’t unreasonably large, the two-story, three-bedroom home overlooking a man-made lake on the edge of a hill was more than a little impressive.

And even though he’d only been over a few times, Ray already knew the key code to get in the front gate by heart. He pressed in the digits and watched the gates open slowly. Sure, it was a little over the top--but what else were you supposed to do when you had more money than you knew what to do with and no kids?

Ray had already started savoring the night ahead of him on the drive over. No stupid, forced small talk. No unfamiliar bodies. Just Ryan.

Ryan was surprisingly fit for his post-sales-whatever-whatever job.

“Guy’s got proportions like a fuckin’ dorito chip,” Ray had explained when Michael asked what made him so attractive. And it didn’t hurt that he had a few inches of height and about 60 lbs of bulk more than Ray.

Or that he was smart. Or funny. Or shit: that **voice**.

Not that Ray was one to wax poetical over johns or anything. It was just nice, he thought as he put his car into park in Ryan’s driveway, to have a reliable, friendly customer who actually treated him like a human being.

Ryan was at the door almost immediately. He was dressed for a night in--a dark sweater and nicely-tailored gray sweatpants, a garment that Ray didn’t know existed until that moment.

“Welcome,” Ryan said warmly as Ray approached.

“You have no idea how glad I am to see you,” Ray said, no hint of exaggeration in his voice--and at that, he tilted his head up to kiss Ryan hello while simultaneously giving his crotch a solid palming. The sweatpants were even softer than Ray had imagined and Ryan gave a satisfying squeak at the unexpected contact. “What’s for dinner?”

\---

Ryan took his time with dinner, trotting out course after course of tapas for Ray. There were flavorful olives in an unusual brine, a bruschetta with heirloom tomatoes, pungent sliced meats, honey with the aftertaste of truffles--and Ray lost count after a while of the different variety of cheeses.

“So you just had all of this laying around your house,” Ray teased, “ and you figured you’d call me.”

“To be fair, I picked it all up after work with the express purpose of calling you,” Ryan said, smiling. “Do you like it?”

“You could’ve served me anything without the letters ‘Mc’ before the name and I’d have loved it, Ryan,” Ray admitted. “But you really knocked it out of the park with this meal. You **do** realize you pay me to be here and you don’t have to bribe me to take off my pants, right?”

“Yeah, about those pants,” Ryan said, raising an eyebrow. “I’m noticing a distinct lack of lace in this whole outfit.”

“Ryan the fashion critic, wow,” Ray said, earning a laugh from Ryan. “Just be patient.”

\---

Ryan didn’t have to be patient for long, although they don’t dive into it. They moved to the living room, Ray sliding into Ryan’s lap--but they didn’t get far before Ryan started rubbing Ray’s neck. The inadvertent moan of pleasure Ray let out when Ryan squeezed a tense muscle didn’t escape his client.

“Here, turn around,” Ryan said. “I’ll rub your neck.”

“Are you sure?” Ray asked, craning his neck to look back at Ryan.

“Yeah, come on,” Ryan said.

And so Ray found himself facing away from his john, getting the best massage of his life.

“I’m not giving you a discount for this,” Ray joked in between the gasps and groans. Ryan’s hands were ridiculously strong, and each much-needed squeeze was halfway between pleasure and pain.

“As long as it has a happy ending, I’m fine,” Ryan said.

Not sure if that was a hint and not really caring, Ray pressed his ass gently into Ryan’s groin. The man already had the beginnings of hard-on and it was impossible to miss through the soft fabric. At the contact, Ryan dug his thumbs into a knot at the base of Ray’s neck, and Ray let out a tremendous, shuddering moan.

Ray smiled, swearing he could feel Ryan twitch through his pants at the noise. He ground back a bit harder, and the hands at his neck went still.

“Have you ever had a lapdance, Ryan?” he asked. The hands spread warm across his neck.

“Yeah, once,” Ryan said. “It was, uh. In a Vegas strip club. It took me three tries to wash the glitter out of my clothes afterwards.”

Ray choked back a laugh.

“Oh my god Ryan,” he said before regaining his composure. He turned slightly, pivoting in between Ryan’s legs. “Would you let me give you a lapdance? No glitter this time--I promise.”

Ryan’s face went analytical, his head tilting back as he took in the sight of Ray. Ray could practically watch the images Ryan must be imagining, could practically count the breaths as Ryan thought. He was cerebral--Ray had learned that after the first session. Sometimes seducing him was just as important as the actual act, in the end.

“I think I’d like that,” Ryan said finally. “I don’t think I have any good music for you, though.”

“I come prepared,” Ray said, fishing his phone out of his pocket. It only took him a moment to pull up the playlist he’d made full of songs he loved to dance to. He flicked through the list--mostly R&B--trying to figure out what might appeal to Ryan the most.

Finally he settled on a slow, bluesy track: “Ai Du.” It was over seven minutes long, but Ray figured they would probably be well on their way to bed before the song was over--as long as he did his job right, at least. The track began and Ray turned the volume up on his phone before setting it on the side table beside the plush leather couch.

Ray was already swaying his hips to the slow beat as he selected a chair and guided Ryan to sit in it. As Ray’s breathing went measured, Ryan’s went strange, watching Ray intently, moving under his hands and sitting obediently.

The comfort he felt around Ryan, the sense of control the other man gave him, made it easy for Ray to perform--and it had been months, hadn’t it, since someone had actually appreciated what he could do, above and beyond just lying there or sucking someone off?

He channelled those cold, boring Reno months into his controlled movements, the sway of his hips, the movement of his spine. Ray knew the dance looked lazy and effortless, but in reality the movements took enormous muscle control--especially without a pole to brace himself against. It was important to keep his breathing in check, to remember his balance, all the while trying to look and feel seductive.

It was a talent, something Ray truly worked on. And damn it was he happy to show it off after the months of unfulfilling convention encounters.

Ray was already barefoot, and he began to undress then, slow and methodical. It was almost uncomfortable to draw out because he knew what the payoff would be like at the end, when each garment was gone. But still--what fun was a rushed lap dance?

Ray slid close to Ryan as he began to undo the buttons of his shirt, one by one, all the while working his muscles to keep dancing, keep swiveling and showing off just what his body could do. He let some of his weight fall on one of Ryan’s thighs, facing Ryan and appreciating the heft and muscle of the limb underneath him as Ray moved against him. Finally the shirt was loose, and Ryan--with a half-dreamy look--reached up to touch the naked skin underneath.

Ray batted his hand away.

“Not yet,” Ray said. “No hands.”

And there was no way for Ray to understand what it triggered in the john’s mind, but Ryan’s eyelids fluttered at that, and he let out a quiet “fuck” under his breath before nodding and placing his hands down by his sides.

Ray discarded the garment, standing back up and swiveling his hips as the pads of his bare feet and toes propelled him slow and controlled in a circle. Ray went to work on his pants, then--just a simple pair of black jeans rolled at the cuffs. Ryan watched, enchanted, as Ray methodically undid each fastener of the button fly.

And finally the big reveal (although in reality, Ray guessed it had only been a minute or two). He continued twirling slow circles in front of Ryan as he hooked the jeans lower, inch by inch, to reveal a low garter belt, then panties, then stockings--each garment soft, ivory, and dripping with lace details.

Ray knew how good the color looked against his skin, how much the garter belt accentuated his hips, how the pale stockings looked against the skin of his thighs. But even if he hadn’t known, he’d have only needed to look in Ryan’s face to see it all revealed there.

Ryan was looking on from the chair, an expression on his face like Ray had just told him a particularly painful secret, brows knit together, his hands unconsciously clenching and relaxing by his sides, his erection clearly visible through the fabric of his pants. The expression on Ryan's face was one Ray had only seen a few times--and even then, only as Ryan fucked into him, about to crash into orgasm--and certainly never before the act. Ray knew he was on the right track.

Ray stepped out of his jeans, catching them with a toe and kicking them aside before returning to Ryan, stepping on either side of his legs. Ray threaded his hands through his own hair, smiling and allowing Ryan a full look up close as he moved just inches off of the man’s lap. And after a long tease, Ray let his weight brush against Ryan in a light grind across his groin.

“Don’t forget to breathe,” Ray whispered before pressing a kiss into the shell of Ryan’s ear.

And Ryan, normally composed, always with a quip or a comeback, had nothing to say in reply, instead breathing out a half-ragged sigh.

Ray pushed back, continuing the dance out of arm’s reach as he undid the fastener to the first garter.

“Goddamn it, Ray,” Ryan said quietly as Ray began to roll the stocking down.

“I told you,” Ray said with a smile, not stopping his dance or looking up from his own thigh. “Just had to be patient.”

“I don’t know how patient I can be,” Ryan said, a hand slipping across his own crotch. “With you. Doing that.”

It only took Ray a few seconds and a few steps before he was close enough to swat Ryan’s hand away.

“Not yet,” Ray scolded. Even through the chiding, Ray didn’t lose the rhythm though, and as he worked to the music, he moved slowly to take his movements to the floor, lowering himself until he was belly up, facing Ryan. Ray had practiced dancing in every position, against all sorts of furniture and surfaces. It was easy to make just about anything look sexy with enough practice, he’d learned.

And Ryan, it would seem, was inclined to agree. His mouth went slack as he watched Ray, moving lazy on the floor as he rolled the rest of the stocking down and past the tip of his pointed toe before discarding it. He took less time with the second stocking, then, unfastening it and hooking it down with a few smooth movements before flourishing his bare legs, one at a time, in the air--close to his own face, showing off his flexibility.

It was hard for Ray not to rush, knowing he was getting to his favorite part of the dance. Ray pedaled his legs slowly through the air, raising his ass just so off the ground, letting Ryan admire every muscle on display before giving Ryan one last playful smile and rolling onto his belly.

Ryan groaned audibly at the sight, Ray rolling his hips side to side, then forwards with a tight control and fluid grace. He pushed up with his arms, rolling his entire spine upwards, until he was halfway to his knees--then back down again. And again. Finally Ray took to his knees, sitting back on his heels to rock in a lazy rhythm, stroking his own naked shoulders, the back of his neck with his hands and arching up, knowing the effect the position had on his figure, pinching his waist even smaller, exaggerating the swell of his hips, the plane of his ass.

All he could hear was the sultry pluck of the music and Ryan’s slow breaths.

When finally Ray deemed that Ryan was sufficiently teased, he began to work backwards on his knees towards the other man. Once he was in the right spot, just barely touching Ryan, Ray pressed up to stand upright and rigid before bending forward at the waist. With a flat back, Ray showed off the full range of his flexibility, his toes just barely turned in for balance as he folded himself down, tracing the shape of his own thighs with his hands before planting both hands on the floor and bobbing slightly.

Ray slowly let the rigid posture lapse and soften, listening for Ryan’s breathing as he pressed backwards. And there it was: the hitch of breath, the deep sonorous moan as Ray finally made contact, letting his back, his ass rest against Ryan’s chest, his groin. Ray knew it must be hard for Ryan not to touch, now, but the man was making an admirable effort, his hands still at his sides as Ray began to grind against him in earnest.

The trick, Ray thought, was to stroke Ryan with his entire body. And even though his muscles were beginning to ache--surely they were hitting the five or six minute mark by now--the slow, soft rhythm of the music made it easy for Ray to continue, finding new and novel ways to grind against Ryan.

It was fun enough to dance this way, his back to Ryan, teasing the man with his ass and the rest of his body--but for the full picture, he wanted to see Ryan’s face. So Ray pivoted slowly to face him, dragging his entire body down the length of Ryan’s body until he was crouched between the man’s knees, looking up at him.

As if it was all too much for him, Ryan finally moved his hands, pushing back the hair from his face and breathing deep, letting his hands rest there on the top of his head as he watched Ray.

“Fuck, Ray,” he said softly, biting his lower lip. For a moment, looking at Ryan’s arms so casually muscular and on display, looking at the flush across his cheeks and his dark lips--for a moment, Ray half forgot who was seducing who before coming back to himself and continuing the dance.

Ray placed his hands confidently on Ryan’s knees--and the man moved into the touch, his expression growing foggier with lust since Ray began facing him. As he curled his body in towards Ryan, Ray dragged his hands from the man’s knees towards his hips before finally anchoring his hands, squeezing the muscles where hips meet ass and balancing his entire body weight against Ryan.

Ryan’s breathing was louder as he watched Ray writhe against his body, sliding forward a little in the chair and allowing himself to slouch. All the cues were there: Ryan had finally slipped out of the world of cerebral self-consciousness and was completely without inhibition, enjoying every inch of what Ray had to offer. The man still hadn’t lowered his arms, instead lacing his fingers behind his own neck to brace himself as he moaned and offered up his body to Ray.

Ray happily took advantage of the position. Keeping his hands at Ryan’s hips, he began grinding his belly, his groin against Ryan’s. Ray knew the dance would be over soon, could feel himself getting a hard-on from the contact, the attention, the sheer sight of Ryan and the noises he was now making under his breath with each stroke of Ray’s body.

Ray’s erection didn’t escape Ryan, either--the look of it straining against the lace as Ray worked his body. Ryan’s breathing had become decidedly labored, and Ray let his hands stray up and down Ryan’s legs as he rolled his hips into the other man. Even through the layers of fabric, Ray realized, the contact felt incredibly good--lace against soft cotton, hardness against hardness as Ray squeezed Ryan’s thighs and ground against his lap, again and again.

“Christ, Ray--I--” Ryan choked, his hands suddenly leaving the back of his neck as his eyes went half panicked. He clamped his hands on either side of Ray’s hips, trying to hold him in place.

“Shh,” Ray soothed, not bothering to bat Ryan’s hands away this time.

“Song’s almost over,” Ray continued--finding that he could still move, even under Ryan’s protesting hands--and really hamming it up now, rolling his hips, his spine, every muscle in tight control, creating one continuous stroke over the surface of Ryan’s erection. “We’ll wrap this up,” Ray said, continuing his grinding, feeling Ryan’s fingertips curl harder and harder into his hips until he was sure they’d leave a mark, “--and then you can touch me all you want.”

“Fuck!” Ryan said, abruptly, his grip going weak and his eyes pleading, helpless. Ray felt the other man’s whole body shudder as he sucked in a ragged breath, head tilted away.

And at first, Ray had thought that he’d somehow hurt Ryan--maybe angered some old injury the man had. But as Ryan continued to breathe hard, as the embarrassment spread across the john’s face, Ray realized that pain wasn’t the issue.

He’d made Ryan cum in his pants.

“No way,” Ray said before he could stop himself, the graceful movements forgotten as he sat down on his heels between Ryan’s knees, admiring the wet stain spreading across the front of his pants.

“I’m so sorry I just--”

“No, fuck, Ryan, that’s… like, the best ever,” Ray said, genuinely delighted. “I don’t think I’ve ever gotten such a good compliment.”

Ryan heaved a deep sigh, equal parts relief and frustration.

“Though, christ, I highly doubt you just paid me a few hundred bucks to cum in your pants,” Ray said.

“Oh don’t worry,” Ryan said, taking a deep breath and hitching an eyebrow in an expression that was already familiar to Ray. “I’ll be… functional. Fairly quickly.”


End file.
